Well, this is by far the stupidest chapter I've written so far…but I hadn't written anything in awhile, so I felt like I should add at least a little update. Where plot is concerned, this chapter is a barren wasteland, mostly because I haven't been able to think of a plot, yet. Hopefully things will get better after this chapter. Perhaps a brilliant idea will come to me. Gosh…I hope so!
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Chapter 20
I woke up the next morning feeling warm and comfortable. I was curled up against Vaughn's motionless form, my head nestled against his chest. I moved my head slightly to look up at him. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and regular.
He was still fast asleep.
I moved away from him, careful not to disturb him as I rose from the bed. I shivered at the loss of his body heat, which had kept me warm all night. Grabbing the spare blanket at the foot of the bed, I wrapped it tightly around my shoulders.
My mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
Food.
Obviously, since the sun had just barely begun to peek over the roofs of the buildings outside, we had slept for quite a bit longer than two hours. In fact, I could vaguely remember waking up at some point that night, realizing that the sun had set and that my stomach was growling.
But when my eyes had fallen on Vaughn, laying still and peaceful beside me, I could have cared less.
Now, though, the rumblings from my stomach couldn't be ignored. I was determined to find something to eat, and no amount of cuddling with Vaughn could change my mind.
I, unlike Vaughn, am not a good cook, and as my eyes scanned the sparse choices in the hotel's mini refrigerator, I could feel my heart sinking. My choices were limited. And considering that, breakfast-wise, all I could make was burnt toast, my odds of creating a decent meal weren't looking that good.
But it couldn't hurt to try.
I smiled overconfidently, pulling eggs, milk, and butter from the small refrigerator.
I could handle scrambled eggs. Who couldn't handle scrambled eggs?
Of course, I'd never tried…
I shrugged. How hard could it be?
* * * * *
After twenty minutes, I had managed to turn the tiny hotel kitchenette into a disaster area. My attempt at scrambled eggs lay in a caked, charred layer at the bottom of the frying pan, and a thin layer of smoke had risen to the ceiling of the room. Luckily, I hadn't burned anything enough to set off the fire alarm or sprinklers.
I sighed, carrying the frying pan to the sink. I turned the water on hot, and began what was sure to be a long process of chipping off what remained of the eggs.
I scrubbed for awhile, my hands turning red from the hot water. After about five minutes, I gave up, accepting the fact that the pan was ruined.
I stared at it for several moments in annoyance, before I felt a warm pair of arms wrap securely around my waist.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Morning, Sleepyhead," I said, leaning my head back to greet him.
"Morning," he replied. "I can see that you've been hard at work. He quirked an eyebrow at me as he suppressed a smile.
I nodded. "Unfortunately, I don't have much to show for it." I gestured to the pan.
"Unless you were hoping to make charcoal for breakfast—" He chuckled, moving away from me to peer into the sink. "What WAS this?" He asked.
"Eggs," I replied.
"Really?" He asked, his voice surprised.
"Yes," I said defensively, swatting him on the arm. He cocked his eyebrow at me again, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. "Hey," I continued, pouting. "Don't look at me like that. I never had a French mother to teach me how to cook."
I hadn't meant the comment to sounds so serious—hadn't meant to bring up my mother—but I had, and Vaughn's face immediately fell.
"I'm sorry," he said, frowning.
"Don't be," I replied, my voice genuine. "It's not your fault." I smiled. "And besides. I have no one to blame for my poor cooking abilities but myself."
Vaughn's smile returned as he moved towards me, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, then on my lips.
"Well, consider yourself lucky," he said, pulling away. "You are standing in the presence of culinary greatness."
"I looked at him skeptically.
"Well," he said, his voice slightly less confident. "Maybe not greatness. But when I cook eggs, they don't come out looking like charcoal."
"Good point," I said. "In that case," I continued, "why don't you handle the eggs, while I take a quick shower?" I moved away, towards the bedroom.
"Oh no, you don't," Vaughn said, grabbing my arm and hauling me back into the kitchen. "You're going to help."
"Vaughn…" I whined. "I think I've done enough damage for one day."
He shook his head. "Nope. You're not getting out of this. You have to learn sometime."
"Fine," I grumbled, stepping back in front of the stove.
"Good," Vaughn said. He reached out, handing me an egg. "Now, let's start at the beginning."
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Hehe… told you it was kinda stupid. But hey… We can all do with a little stupidity in our lives :) I hope you guys liked it, anyways. Thanks for all the great reviews… I'm loving them!!
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Chapter 20
I woke up the next morning feeling warm and comfortable. I was curled up against Vaughn's motionless form, my head nestled against his chest. I moved my head slightly to look up at him. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and regular.
He was still fast asleep.
I moved away from him, careful not to disturb him as I rose from the bed. I shivered at the loss of his body heat, which had kept me warm all night. Grabbing the spare blanket at the foot of the bed, I wrapped it tightly around my shoulders.
My mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
Food.
Obviously, since the sun had just barely begun to peek over the roofs of the buildings outside, we had slept for quite a bit longer than two hours. In fact, I could vaguely remember waking up at some point that night, realizing that the sun had set and that my stomach was growling.
But when my eyes had fallen on Vaughn, laying still and peaceful beside me, I could have cared less.
Now, though, the rumblings from my stomach couldn't be ignored. I was determined to find something to eat, and no amount of cuddling with Vaughn could change my mind.
I, unlike Vaughn, am not a good cook, and as my eyes scanned the sparse choices in the hotel's mini refrigerator, I could feel my heart sinking. My choices were limited. And considering that, breakfast-wise, all I could make was burnt toast, my odds of creating a decent meal weren't looking that good.
But it couldn't hurt to try.
I smiled overconfidently, pulling eggs, milk, and butter from the small refrigerator.
I could handle scrambled eggs. Who couldn't handle scrambled eggs?
Of course, I'd never tried…
I shrugged. How hard could it be?
* * * * *
After twenty minutes, I had managed to turn the tiny hotel kitchenette into a disaster area. My attempt at scrambled eggs lay in a caked, charred layer at the bottom of the frying pan, and a thin layer of smoke had risen to the ceiling of the room. Luckily, I hadn't burned anything enough to set off the fire alarm or sprinklers.
I sighed, carrying the frying pan to the sink. I turned the water on hot, and began what was sure to be a long process of chipping off what remained of the eggs.
I scrubbed for awhile, my hands turning red from the hot water. After about five minutes, I gave up, accepting the fact that the pan was ruined.
I stared at it for several moments in annoyance, before I felt a warm pair of arms wrap securely around my waist.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Morning, Sleepyhead," I said, leaning my head back to greet him.
"Morning," he replied. "I can see that you've been hard at work. He quirked an eyebrow at me as he suppressed a smile.
I nodded. "Unfortunately, I don't have much to show for it." I gestured to the pan.
"Unless you were hoping to make charcoal for breakfast—" He chuckled, moving away from me to peer into the sink. "What WAS this?" He asked.
"Eggs," I replied.
"Really?" He asked, his voice surprised.
"Yes," I said defensively, swatting him on the arm. He cocked his eyebrow at me again, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. "Hey," I continued, pouting. "Don't look at me like that. I never had a French mother to teach me how to cook."
I hadn't meant the comment to sounds so serious—hadn't meant to bring up my mother—but I had, and Vaughn's face immediately fell.
"I'm sorry," he said, frowning.
"Don't be," I replied, my voice genuine. "It's not your fault." I smiled. "And besides. I have no one to blame for my poor cooking abilities but myself."
Vaughn's smile returned as he moved towards me, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, then on my lips.
"Well, consider yourself lucky," he said, pulling away. "You are standing in the presence of culinary greatness."
"I looked at him skeptically.
"Well," he said, his voice slightly less confident. "Maybe not greatness. But when I cook eggs, they don't come out looking like charcoal."
"Good point," I said. "In that case," I continued, "why don't you handle the eggs, while I take a quick shower?" I moved away, towards the bedroom.
"Oh no, you don't," Vaughn said, grabbing my arm and hauling me back into the kitchen. "You're going to help."
"Vaughn…" I whined. "I think I've done enough damage for one day."
He shook his head. "Nope. You're not getting out of this. You have to learn sometime."
"Fine," I grumbled, stepping back in front of the stove.
"Good," Vaughn said. He reached out, handing me an egg. "Now, let's start at the beginning."
* * * * *
Hehe… told you it was kinda stupid. But hey… We can all do with a little stupidity in our lives :) I hope you guys liked it, anyways. Thanks for all the great reviews… I'm loving them!!